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Homosexuality Wrecks a Marriage: The Trending Nigerian Divorce Story

The divorce story of a Nigerian lady named Sadiya Lawal is currently trending on Twitter.

Read this heartwrenching story.

MY NAME IS SADIYA LAWAL. I AM 29 YEARS OLD. I AM FROM BAUCHI STATE. I WOULD LIKE TO SHARE MY DIVORCE DIARIES WITH YOU. #DivorceDiaries

For me, it was love at first and Hamisu was the one.

I met my husband when I was a Corper. I was serving in Abuja at the time. It was a beautiful time in my life and I quickly fell in love with the tall handsome charming stranger I met at Dunes Centre. His name was Hamisu Mohammed. It was love at first sight.

I was at the restaurant when he walked towards the aisles. Our eyes met for a moment and that was it. It felt like electricity and my heart was almost beating out of my chest when he smiled and started walking towards me.

I tried to look away but his pull was too magnetic and I found myself smiling back at him.

‘Hello lady, you look like you are having a good time’ he said and my heart stopped for a minute as all my senses concentrated on listening to him

I just kept smiling like a fool as he kept smiling back. I don’t even remember what my reply was. We ended up sitting down and talking for like 3 hours that day. The rest, as they say, is history. A year after that fateful meeting we got married. It was a most beautiful day that I will cherish forever. I was so in love with him, he was everything.

As any typical northern girl, I excitedly prepared for my wedding night with a lot of gyaran jiki and Kayan Mata. The weeks before my wedding were filled with all sorts of skin treatments, consumption of aphrodisiacs and vaginal steaming all in anticipation of the big night. I looked forward to consummating our love on that special night.

On that special night, when all the glitz and glam of the wedding was done, it was just the two of us. I was so nervous and excited but Hamisu did not look interested. We talked for a while and then he fell asleep.Yes! My husband fell asleep on our first night. I did not know what do, whether to wake him up or to allow him sleep. I couldn’t hold myself I had to wake him up.

‘Honey, I don’t think we should be sleeping tonight. It is our first night, it is the Sunnah.. He cut me off with a kiss and we made out for a while; then he told me he couldn’t do anything that night because he was so tired from the activities of the wedding. Fair enough… so we slept off.

Two weeks later we were still sleeping together…that is we were only sleeping. At this point I became fed up. No matter how hard I tried to get him in the mood my husband did not seem interested in making me a woman. He would rather go to sleep.

Three months after my wedding and I was still a virgin. My husband was not interested in that part of our marriage though he was a wonderful husband in other areas. He was very supportive of my career, he took care of me, he cooked and cleaned up after himself, he made me laugh, he was affectionate but that was the end of it… after a while I gave up trying.

There were a lot of rumours swirling around our social circles about my husband and his sexual preferences; but every single time he assured me he was working on being a lover I would cherish… eventually he always said.

The months were followed by a year then 2 years then 3 years and still our marriage remained unconsummated. I did not know what to do next. Friends told me to try and get his attention, to be uninhibited to be sexy blah blah blah.

I was sick and tired of hearing it was up to me to get my own husband to fulfil my marital rights. I was reaching my breaking point. It all became worse with the pressure and questions from our families about why we had not had children yet. How could we have children when we were living like roommates instead of husband and wife?

I confronted him and he told me he had been molested as a boy and he was working on being sexual for me. My heart went out to him and I left it at that, I prayed for him every day, to overcome his experience.

One day I went to work and suddenly my period came so I had to rush back home to clean up; as I lived just fifteen minutes away from my office. I walked into my living room to find my husband being sodomised by another man who was on top of him.

He had sweat beads on his face and his eyes were closed. They did not hear me open the door; neither did they notice me standing directly opposite them. Hamisu opened his eyes. He looked at me and I looked at him.

He pushed the man off him and that is when I recognised who he was. The man that was sodomising my husband was my father.

What the hell was my father doing here? With my husband? I ran to the kitchen and took my largest knife. The rage inside me was like red hot lava in a volcano and it was threatening to erupt and consume all of us. The betrayal! He would not touch me but he could sleep with my father! I was confused about my father, No maybe my mind was playing tricks on me… my father was gone by the time I returned from the kitchen.

Hamisu was Unclad and struggling to wear his trousers when I stabbed him, I missed and a chase ensued. I wanted to send him to hell where he belonged.

Finally, I got his hand; the knife sliced through skin and flesh and came out with blood spraying everywhere staining the white carpet. He groaned in pain: Sadiya!

I raised the knife again; I wanted to stab him in his heart, just like he had done to me. I wanted to damage him with all the rage inside me.

He was begging me and I was charging towards him to finish him off when I tripped and fell; the knife slipped away from my hand and in that moment the powerlessness of my situation hit me.

What could I really do? Who would even believe me? What type of daughter would I be to accuse my father of homosexuality? How could I face my mother with the news that my father and my husband were lovers? Inna Lillahi what could I really do in this situation. I broke down; I just crouched and broke down in tears, the blood from my period further staining my white carpet… I did not care, let the carpet stain I thought- as I watched it turn a dirty red colour…

He crawled towards me, ‘Sadiya I am sorry’ was all he kept saying. I had so many things I wanted to say to him but I just could not open my mouth. It was as if the weight in my heart had pulled my mouth shut. I heard him talk.

He said he had always been a bottom (other men did it to him), since his days in secondary school. He said a senior boy had taught him and somehow it had become his habit.

He said he preferred that to being with a woman.

‘I really do love you Sadiya, just not in that way you know! When we met you accepted me, without any questions. I love you but I just could not be a lover to you. And I saw that you liked being married to me. I always assumed you knew…

This was a mistake, it will never happen again. Your father is the senior boy who first molested me back in secondary school. I had not seen him since secondary school until the day I went to greet him before we got married. We rekindled our relationship and… .’

I slapped his dirty mouth. How dare he? Three years in a sex less marriage and he had the audacity to tell me he assumed I knew?

Why would a woman assume her husband was a perverted homo sexual pig? Why? Why did he marry me? He just used me to kill the rumours ko? Shege tsinnanne!

He continued to talk but I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up.

I walked out and drove straight home to my mother. After narrating what happened, my mother held me in her arms and told me she had caught my father several times with different lovers and she had taken it in her stride.

I could not believe what she was saying. So all this time… my father had been a gay man and my mother knew. Not only did she know but she condoned it! Subhanallah. The only part of the story that shocked my mother was that he had seduced his son in law. I was beyond disgusted. What on earth?

All I thought I knew about my parents was a lie. A disgusting lie. I wanted to throw up wallahi. So she had children with him while knowing his true nature? According to my mother all I needed was patience. She told me she coped by telling herself it was just a habit like smoking cigarettes. She warned me against causing any scandal and instructed me to go home and take care of my husband like a good wife should.

According to my mother all I needed was patience. She told me she coped by telling herself it was just a habit like smoking cigarettes. She warned me against causing any scandal and instructed me to go home and take care of my husband like a good wife should. No one wanted to be there for me so I drove home, cleaned up my house and waited. He came home late at night with a bandage over his wound. He talked a lot but I did not hear a word. I just looked at him and wondered what else he was hiding.

That night I could not sleep. What was I going to do? I had cried gallons of tears and still I was hurting. The tears did not cool the raging fire within me. I was so angry! A week later, I still did not know how I was going to leave my husband. I could not pretend that things were normal between us. I was all cried out.

So I decided to take my life. It was the best possible outcome. If I killed myself then no would ever find out about the shame in my family. At night, I took a knife and started to slit my wrists until I passed out. I thought I had died but I woke up in a hospital with Hamisu and my mother by my side.

He had found me bleeding out on the floor of the kitchen. I was angry I did not succeed in taking my own life. I ended up staying in the hospital for a week and Hamisu was the ever dutiful husband. Everyone called me ungrateful for wanting to end my life despite having such a devoted husband… what more did I want in life; they all asked me. I wish they could know what I had been going through

Once I felt better, I told him I wanted him to divorce me. I told him if he refused I would go to court and tell the alkali (judge) everything. I had nothing to lose. I just wanted to be away from him, from my parents, from everyone that said I was an ungrateful wife. I wish could put themselves in my shoes.

He divorced me. It has been a year and I just recently moved into my own house. I do not want anything to do with my parents. I still have suicidal thoughts every now and then.

Hamisu has remarried and I pitied the poor girl when I saw their pictures on Instagram. I wondered if she would ever find out.

I wonder if she will be patient with him. That patience is what landed me in the hell I found myself in.

I should have known that something was not right from our first night together. I should have said something, I should have left him. But no, I wanted to be a good wife. I cannot trust a man again. I do not wish to marry again. For now, what is important to me is making as much money to take care of myself without needing anyone.

People always say that time heals all wounds so I have hope of being normal some day. Thank you for reading my story.

Over the weekend, I joined my children to watch the
much talked about ‘Black Panther’. It was a good film, and I was happy they
took me to see it. However, I came out of the movie theatre a little upset. When the first scenes came up, and I saw “Sambisa Forest”
I was unhappy that the only reference the film makers could have for Nigeria
was a negative one, but I was later encouraged by the thought of Africans
solving African problems. That is a good thing, the kinds of things we used to
do. For young people who may not remember, Nigerian civil servants and indeed
most able citizens used to contribute money every month to support the struggle
against Apartheid in South Africa. Nigeria was the single stabilizing force
across West Africa. Helping to restore peace in Liberia and Sierra Leone are
examples of the gigantic status we once had.

The maiden edition of the 'my phone photography exhibition' held on the 23rd of March. The Shehu Musa Yar'adua Centre located in central area, Abuja, played host to this event. It was an atmosphere filled with calmness but you could also hear the joy and excitement in the voices of the over 100 people who came through the exhibition doors. The idea of the exhibition was born by one of the exhibitors (Omofuoma Agharite). Haven taken numerous pictures with her phone, she wanted to share those pictures with others and at the same time support a charity organisation. It was then that the idea was born and given to Ivy Events to nurture. After months of planning and execution, a group of exhibitors came together to showcase some of the amazing pictures that they had photographed with only their phones.